Short 2

The Cranberries- Zombie is playing softly overhead as D enters the room. She hangs her head as she spies some acquaintances across the bar. D has many things to ponder over alone and alone, she wishes to remain. “Espresso, make that a double” mumbles D as she flips open the menu, pretending to be reading. The waitress cocks her eyebrow as the clock approaches the 11^th hour of the night. “You all right honey?” concerned, as any Good Samaritan would be. “I had a long night, and it’s gonna be even longer. Thanks though,” expressed in between a forced smile and an apparently cheerful demeanor. “Yeah, all right, just let me know if you need more” says the Good Samaritan, before she trots off. D slumps, her previous cheer gone, and one by one, tears flow down her liquor induced- rosy cheeks.  

She stares out the window into the cold, harsh night. She spots New Year revelers laughing and waiting for the countdown with all the joy of an adolescent child. D is bitter; D wants nothing other than oblivion. But she knows she can’t. Her cup-o-reality arrives, along with a cheeky wink and a warm smile from its deliverer; “I know I ain’t gonna make much sense, but its New Years Eve! Don’t let that man get you down!” D smiles, this time genuine, as she basks in the warm glow of this lovely lady, bonding with her as females do with each other in a fleeting, second’s long, glance.  “I’m not sure why, but I’m going to need an Angel tonight to get me over this”, D continues playing with her cup of Jo and takes a big gulp. The bitter beverage goes down harsh. Like liquid consciousness, her senses rush back to her. She tastes mediocrity in the coffee, which stems from the mediocrity of the bean, and that stems from the mediocrity of the apparently-organic Amazonian origins of the farm. D relates with mediocrity, her whole night has been mediocre, her whole life has been mediocre, and her whole family has been mediocre.

“Oh deary, you must have met the devil tonight, a devil with an innocent smile and a tongue as sweet as my old mama’s sugar coated brownies.” The waitress shakes her head, frowning at her customer’s plight. “But well, don’t you worry my dear, I’ll lift your spirit straight up! Ain’t nothing old Manda can’t fix, I’ll bring  you a big brownie, though it ain’t as good as my mama’s.” Sweet chocolaty goodness, Manda was right, D floated into a plane of caffeine and sugar, almost as good as Red Bull and a tub of Gelato on a lonely Friday night. Her night wasn’t suppose to end up like this, her night was supposed to be Red Bull and Vodka, Gin and Tonic, Bacardi Apple and Lemonade, Scotch and Coke. D’s night ended at Gin and Tonic number 6 and “I’ve always wanted to tell you something…” The aftermath was the usual, crying, tear shedding of the greatest degree.

D’s melancholy was interrupted by screaming, blaring sirens and the sound of a million voices celebrating the coming of a new year. It all S’s fault, S, S, S. What an S-hole. D was smitten, D still is smitten by that man, but so were many others. D is tired, weary of her sorrow. She never really had much discipline, and tonight was no different. She wasn’t surprised it would turn out this way. But D tells herself she’s a princess!  D gets up and walks to the door. “Thanks, I think I’m going to be all right. I know exactly how to get over this.” Manda smiled back “Good for you girl, all the best. Old Manda will be here if you need her.” D steps out into the cold morning night. She hears the beats of competing night spots along the strip. R&B? No, too sensual, and D was not in a sensual mood. She wanders around to the sounds of House, Trance and Rave, with increasing tempo in ascending order.

Oblivion is what D seeks, to rid D of her obsession of this man. She finds her black hole, her infinite vacuum of choice. She smiles as she prepares to dive into the world of Rave. She tracks down her steady buddy, E. E whispers sweet delirium to her. D doesn’t usually dance very much, but E is a great partner, a guiding angel in desperate times. She tongues E , his round form doesn’t bother her too much as she feels him go down her throat and into her system. Her body follows E’s command, D’s hips gyrate with the music. She hears the angel’s chorus through E’s amplified voice. She finds herself on the stage of heaven. She feels the rhythmic breeze blowing beneath her. D stands upon the amphitheatre of Bass as sound waves blast under her skirt. She sees her adoring angels all beneath her, the conductor of the choir approves and he spins a new track just for her, appreciating her dance on the woofer.

D is content, D is euphoric. She doesn’t need S, she had trusty old E, who fits in her bag along with her cell and sunnies. D feels her angels gather around her as she steps of her stage, they move along with her, following her around the club. They whisper sweet things into her ear, they promise a more beautiful destination. D feels weary now as E slowly leaves her veins. She no longer hears sweet promises. All she hears are the drunken grunts of highly hormonal males. D knows now, that it is time to retire, to return to her lonely existence once again. She steps out into the light and greets the dawning sun. She finally hails her chariot after half an hour of frantic waving on the road. Thus begins her journey back to her life, back to mediocrity.

Short 1: S

Her scent filled the air as the silhouette of her figure glided through the door. Lancôme? No , something bolder, Dior? As S turned to catch a glimpse of this lady, she disappears through the club and into the VIP lounge. However, S could not help but notice the entranced looked of the men around and for once in a very long time, S in intrigued, intrigued by a woman. Pondering who this dashing lady might be, all S was equipped with to identify her were a faint recollection of a bold scent and a slim figure. S is no stranger to charming women, or girls sweet as nectar. He strides confidently and surely towards the tall intimidating men guarding the exclusive lounge. With a smile and a nod, the bouncers stepped aside, acknowledging S and ushering him into the domain of the privileged.

S grins broadly as he walks into the room. Some of the crowd were unknown to the well dressed man in his Ralph Lauren Blazer and his AX jeans, others greet S warmly and welcome him into the familiar circle. S is bored by the idle banter; he slowly, even lazily surveys the room for the source of his intrigue. It was not long before he spots the object of his fascination which has now evolved into a black hole of admiration and jealousy. He sees her sway with her excruciatingly high heels and her short plaid skirt. With a toss of her hair and a cheeky smile she enchants every man within her airspace. Her posture, her attire are all signals to S. To all the unknowing men in the room, she is an attractive, young lady who shows an interest.

Those unknowing men lust after her, wishing to conquer her, wishing to obtain the pleasure holding her interest, and of course, finally to bed her. To S, he sees her crossed legs as a sign of being on her game, being alert while of course showing off her long slender calves. He sees her hands neatly folded on her lap as well mannered, of high society. And lastly, S sees her friendly to everybody attitude as bait, batting all into her honey laced trap. S sees a woman who lives on attention, a woman who knows how to play the crowd and have them on their knees begging for more of her. She keeps them close with a warm smile or a delightful laugh, yet keeps them guessing by moving conversations between suitors.
Inside, S smiles, he knows that tonight will be a handful. To be truthful, S is no different from all the other men in that room. S wishes also for her attention but S knows that to catch this fish it is no easy task. However S has the advantage of being in the game for longer than most others. He wastes no time, and ponders how he should open. S curses himself for being ill prepared and improvises. Step one, attention; he draws his crew into her immediate vicinity and proceeds to serenade friends and strangers alike with humorous stories. S is also a man of talent, he plays the crowd well and he also enchants them with his friendly demeanor. S knows she is watching, but S also knows she also desires him to be one of her many adoring minions.

He knows that once he has her attention approach is possible and he could attempt to woo her with his many skills. But S does not take that risk, the night is still young, and S wants his target, and S always gets his target. S puts it off; he decides more prep is in order. The night drags on, the crowd gets rowdier and the DJ is blasting R&B and House. S slides across the floor; he takes control and makes his space with his crew. S feels the electricity and the beat of the music flowing through his veins. He chuckles silently as the many men attempt to dance, attempt to impress our princess with their moves. Disgust is unavoidable as some over ambitious men attempt too much and our princess does not enjoy grinding with her followers, she enjoys being worshipped by her followers. She sways seductively and S admires her from a distance acknowledging her well honed talents.

Dance is one thing S is not a stranger to. S gives himself the green light as he sees disappointed suitors tire and head home. All that dancing to Usher and Chris Brown on Sunday mornings has its purposes as S tears it up with 360 turns with his flailing blazer and ala natural moves on the floor. Putting on a little occasional J Timberlake tie magic and with some help of hot tracks from the DJ, S puts all others to shame. Our princess is impressed but she is not one who does the worshipping. S knows she will not approach and acknowledge his presence. But frustration is imminent as her flock of suitors is dwindling down to the most persistent and desperate while S is drawing the attention of the flock of the opposite sex. And most frustrating of all is why S has not approached.

S bides his time, and finally makes his move after much preparation. S spots a tired princess resting on a couch with her humble flock. Casually, S strolls straight to her and starts with “Long night isn’t it?”. Her royal highness is pleasantly surprised and replies “Yeah, bit of a long one”. S reads her short dismissing tone as a sign of annoyance and sidesteps this with something sweeter “I know, I’m pretty tired too, been dancing for a while, you’re a pretty good dancer yourself”. The princess’s eyes light up as she hears the complement, though faint, come from S. Immediately her cold and off handed behavior changed as S disarmed her. Her posture shifts, she leans towards S and looks at S with her full attention “Thanks, you’re not too shabby yourself…..” S quickly capitalizes with “S, I’m S. Nice to meet you” while extending his hand. She shakes it fondly and the conservation carries on.

Pleased that the opening was successful, S takes his leave after a few minutes of conversation. Besides, who can leave their boys? Even if it is for a hot girl. S takes his leave before overstaying and appearing too willing to serve the princess. Unsurprisingly, the princess is frustrated, again confused as to why it is difficult to capture S, to charm S with her superior physique and personality. S knows this, S is hot property, S serves no one. The night wears on and the club thins out as the unaccustomed file out of the place. S sees a disappointed princess, humbled that her charm is not all conquering. She slowly joins the masses and looks to exit.

S takes this moment to close, he walks up and cuts off the princess as she prepares to exit. “How’s it going?” S asks her as he slumps on the seat next to her. “All right, yourself?” she replies, her eyes twinkling with delight. “I’m good, I’m good, you like the music tonight? I prefer Trance myself but I’ll settle for what I can get” S continues the chat with her, this time longer and more pronounced. He knows he has her, he’s broken her down and now he’s going to build her back up. S carefully gauges himself, letting himself appear more and more interested as the conversation continues. He wants the princess to believe that he is attracted to her through the conversation and not through her physical appearance alone. S complements her hair and plays with it, all the while teasing her and breaking the ice. S knows he has her when she starts giggling. He smells success, victory! S asks about her hobbies, what movies she likes. Romantic comedies, how surprising! He suggests a meet up as S likes them too. Procedural, robotic, according to the book, S exchanges mobile numbers with her. Just like that, a challenge conquered tonight.

Haven't blogged in ages

Its so different now.

I just don't know why I work so hard.